The Color of Heaven Series [02] The Color of Destiny

by Julianne MacLean

  She turned out to be the mother I’d never had.

  How astounding that life can be so cruel one moment, and so generous the next.

  Abigail and I were blissfully happy, and though we were unable to have children of our own – despite our greatest efforts and a parade of fertility treatments – we never once took for granted the blessing that was Marissa, for she was a shining, shimmering light in both our lives.

  It was she who ultimately steered me in the direction I was meant to go.

  Chapter Forty

  I ALWAYS KNEW she was a clever girl. I knew it the first moment I met her in my office when she was screaming about the pain in her ear. She had looked me in the eye with a wisdom I found astonishing for a child of that age. There was an awareness there... a confidence and a curiosity.

  As a young child, she was physically active and adventurous, and though she exhausted us at times with her questions and energy, we were never anything but grateful and flabbergasted by her intelligence and zest for life. I knew enough about psychology to recognize that she was a gifted child, and the fact that we had no other children allowed us to give every ounce of ourselves to Marissa. Emotionally, intellectually, and financially. One of us – that included Gladys – was always available to read to her at night, to play thought-provoking games, and later, to help her with high-level math and science, history, French, and English.

  I was the math and science expert, and Abigail was a master of the arts. Marissa was fully bilingual in English and French by the time she was ten, and could play the piano and violin.

  For her part, Gladys provided a moral learning center. She volunteered at the food bank and nursing home, and when Marissa was old enough, Gladys taught her the value of charity and compassion.

  When she reached high school, Marissa joined the student council and started a fund-raising campaign – a bottle run and walk-a-thon – to raise money for the children’s hospital in Halifax. The first year, she helped raise a thousand dollars and appeared on live television to present the check. She did the same thing the next two years running, raising more money each year, before passing the baton to another high-achieving student after she graduated.

  I was incredibly proud of her. But it doesn’t end there. Her kindness, strength, and love provided a true inspiration to me at a time when the winds of destiny shifted yet again, and bad luck returned to my world.

  Chapter Forty-one

  ABIGAIL AND I had been married for fifteen wonderful years when Gladys put the DVD player in the dishwasher.

  There was nearly a house fire when, a few days later, she left a pot of carrots boiling on the stove, and decided to go for a walk. She lost her sense of direction on the beach, and by the time she found her way back home, the carrots had boiled dry, the kitchen was full of smoke, alarms were going off, and a neighbor had called the fire department.

  I’m sure it will come as no surprise for you to learn that Gladys was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t easy dealing with the emotional impact. She was such an integral part of our lives. Now decisions had to be made about her future, and ours.

  But it gets worse. One month after Gladys was diagnosed, Abigail found a lump in her breast.

  I did everything I could as a husband, a son, and a doctor. Thank heavens Gladys was still in the early stages of her illness, and she was able to comprehend what was happening to Abigail. She was helpful and strong, and a great support for Abigail during treatments.

  Marissa, who was seventeen at the time, was a rock for me that entire year, especially when Abigail had to have a double mastectomy. That was followed by aggressive chemotherapy, and it killed me to see my beautiful wife so ill. I wished that it could have been me instead of her.

  It was traumatic for all of us, but we held strong together. We did everything to make sure Abigail was comfortable, full of hope, and felt loved every minute of each precious day.

  We lost her after a nine-month battle against a very aggressive disease that had spread to nine of her lymph nodes.

  It’s not easy to talk about. Forgive me, but I simply cannot bear to describe the details of her death, or relive my emotions before, during, and after. I apologize. I am not a poet. All I can say is that I lost my best friend, my lover, my soul mate, and my hero that year, for she had rescued me from a life of solitude, and showed me what it meant to be part of a loving family. For that – and for her – I will always be grateful.

  A New Perspective

  Chapter Forty-two

  Marissa

  “I THINK WE should get some help,” I said to Ryan, my stepdad, when I came home to Chester for the summer after my third year at university.

  I was attending Dalhousie in Halifax, which was Ryan’s alma mater – but I always returned to Chester for the summers to spend time with him and Gram, and to work at the yacht club, where I was an instructor in the sailing school for kids.

  I was now twenty years old, and my mother Abigail had been gone for two.

  “What kind of help?” Ryan asked.

  I pulled a couple of mugs down from the cupboard, set them on the counter, and went searching for teabags. “A geriatric home care worker,” I said, “and I think we should try and find someone while I’m here this summer, so I can make sure we don’t get stuck with some lazy psycho. I want the very best for Gram.”

  The way I saw it – someone had to be here to keep an eye on her while we were both at work, and that person would require nursing skills, because Gram was starting to lose her ability to do certain things on her own.

  She was also waking up disoriented during the night and wandering around the house as if she were lost. Ryan and I were both exhausted.

  Looking weary after a long day at the clinic, Ryan sat down at the kitchen island and cupped his forehead in a hand. “Your mother always imagined she would be the one to take care of Gladys, right up until the end. It would break her heart to know that we were hiring a stranger to look after her.”

  I dropped the teabags into the cups and drowned them in steaming water from the kettle. “Not a stranger,” I said. “A responsible home care worker who will be a friend to us, as long as we find the right person.” I placed his mug in front of him.

  I watched him take hold of the paper tab and dip the teabag for a few seconds. His eyes lifted, and he looked at me. “I’m glad you’re home. It’s been rough here without you. I don’t know how I’ll manage in September when you go back.”

  “That’s why we need to get someone now,” I told him. “I can help with the search.”

  I saw his Adam’s apple bob, then my eyes darted to the doorway that led downstairs to Gram’s basement apartment.

  She was standing there in her nightgown and slippers, staring at us.

  “Don’t you think I should be part of this discussion?” she asked.

  My stomach dropped. I was both mortified and concerned for her feelings. “Of course, Gram. Come on over.”

  She shuffled across the floor and sat on the stool next to Ryan. “Yes, thank you. I would love a cup a tea. How kind of you to offer.”

  We both chuckled, and Ryan slid his mug across to her. I went to pour him a replacement.

  “You were always such a gentleman,” she said with a wink. “That’s why Abby married you, and she made a darn good choice. Wish I could say the same for myself.” She was referring to her own marriage, which had ended in divorce around the time Abigail married my real dad. “What were we talking about?” Gladys asked.

  I knew she’d heard what I said about hiring a home care worker, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to forget the thread of a conversation. “We were just discussing the bingo hall,” I said. “They need air conditioning, don’t you think?”

  Gladys regarded me over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip. “Don’t play games with me, young lady. I may not remember who the Prime Minister is, but I know when I’m being talked about. You’re trying to figure out what to do with me.”

/>   Ryan laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not going to ‘do’ anything with you, Gladys. We love you, and we’re going to take care of you. Right here.”

  She set down her mug. “I love you, too, but I won’t have either of you feeling sorry for me. I’ve had a great life, and I intend to enjoy what time I have left – while I can still remember who the heck you are. But in order for me to enjoy it, I need to know that you are both going to take care of yourselves.”

  She directed her gaze back at Ryan. “I know you haven’t been sleeping because you’ve been up with me, making sure I don’t step off a cliff and fall into the Bay, but if you’re going to take care of me, you need to stay healthy. So yes, hire someone. I’d like to be involved, if you don’t mind, since he or she will be helping me in and out of the bathtub before long.”

  “Gram––” I said, surprised by how lucid and sensible she was in that moment. I wanted to apologize for making her feel as if we didn’t think her opinion mattered.

  She held up a hand. “No, you have to listen to me, because I probably won’t remember to tell you this later. When the time comes to put me in a home, I want you to do it, and not feel guilty about it. Do you understand? I know what lies ahead for me, and I don’t want to be a burden to either one of you. Yes, hire someone to babysit me now, especially at night, but when it becomes more than that...”

  Ryan put his arm around her, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.

  My throat closed up. Swallowing hard, I moved around the island to join them. “I can’t imagine you not living here with us,” I said to Gram.

  “But there will come a time when it’s necessary,” she replied. “When the time is right, you’ll know. And it will be okay. I promise.”

  We continued to hug around the kitchen island, until she told us to stop blubbering and turn on the television. Oh, how she loved the Discovery Channel.

  But Gram was a creature of habit, so she woke us again at 3:00 a.m., and it wasn’t easy getting her back to bed. She thought she was in a strange house and wanted desperately to go home where she would be safe.

  We began the search for the perfect home care worker the following day.

  Chapter Forty-three

  WE WERE FORTUNATE in that Ryan knew all the right questions to ask the agencies, and he was able to get some excellent recommendations. We would have loved to find someone local, but the person Gram liked the best lived in Halifax, so we chose to pay her extra in order for her to relocate to Chester.

  Again, we were fortunate because Ryan earned a good income, the house was paid off, and we still had a nest egg left over from my father’s life insurance policy.

  We offered the candidate of our choice a rent-free flat to live in. It didn’t have a view of the water, but we provided a membership to the yacht club, access to Ryan’s boat, and in addition, we promised a generous biweekly stipend if the candidate agreed to be on call during the weekends.

  To our delight, Elizabeth Jackson accepted the position, but we had to wait two weeks for her to start, because she was employed at a nursing home in the city and insisted on giving proper notice.

  In the meantime, we were able to hire a local home care worker to cover the night shift from 11:00 to 7:00 in the morning. His name was Justin. He was a handsome young nursing assistant with a terrific sense of humor, which Gram appreciated when she found herself trying to figure out the lock on the back door at 3:00 a.m.

  Ryan took the next two weeks off work to stay home with Gram during the days, while we waited for Elizabeth to arrive.

  When she walked through the door, however, Ryan took one look at her from the top of the stairs and frowned at me.

  While Gram took Elizabeth out onto the deck to show her the view, he quickly descended the stairs, dragged me by the arm into the kitchen pantry, and slid the door shut.

  “Are you kidding me?” he said in an angry whisper. “We offer a salary and benefits worthy of an ER doc, and you hire that? She looks like she’s having an identity crisis. She doesn’t know if she wants to be a goth or a motorcycle chick.”

  “She’s the one Gram wanted!” I replied in my defence, because I, too, had had my doubts when Elizabeth Jackson first walked into the coffee shop in Halifax where Gram and I held the interview. She won me over, however, as soon as she smiled and spoke.

  Ryan had been working that day, so he’d left it up to us to conduct the interviews. He told me it would be a good experience for me.

  “You’re telling me that woman is a certified nurse’s aid?” Ryan said. “She has a tattoo.”

  “It’s a butterfly,” I argued, as if that made a difference. “And it’s on her wrist.”

  He let out a breath. “It’s still a tattoo. She’s got to be pushing forty, for pity’s sake. If she was seventeen, I might be able to excuse it, but...” He paused. “How long has she had it?”

  “The tattoo? I don’t know. It didn’t seem like an appropriate question to ask. And she’s not forty. She’s thirty-seven. It was on her resume. Didn’t you read it?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, then rested his hands on his hips. “Geez. What are we going to do? I don’t think she’s going to work out.”

  “Why not?” I practically shouted. “You haven’t even talked to her yet. She’s a very nice person.”

  His chest heaved. “She’s not what I expected. How do we know she’s not going to rob us blind?”

  “Why? Because she has a tattoo?”

  “And spiky black hair,” he added, as if that was the icing on the cake.

  “She’s wearing a dress,” I offered.

  “With combat boots.”

  I stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “What is wrong with you? You’re not usually so judgemental.”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Something about her just rubs me the wrong way. She doesn’t look like a home care worker.”

  “What did you expect? Someone in white pants and a white shirt? With those ugly white leather loafers? God, you have me picturing Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I promise you, Elizabeth is nothing like that. She had excellent references from the nursing home where she worked. And she’s creative. That’s what Gram loves about her.”

  “How is she creative?” Ryan asked.

  “She paints watercolors.”

  “Of what? Dead seagulls?”

  I laughed again. “You are too much, Ryan. Just relax. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll like her once you get to know her. Now let’s get out of here before she figures out we’re hiding in the pantry closet. Then we’ll be the ones committed to a home.”

  I pushed the sliding pantry door open. We crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the sunny, breezy deck where Gram was chatting with the already tarnished home care worker with the butterfly tattoo.

  “Elizabeth,” I said, “this is my stepdad, Ryan Hamilton.”

  Elizabeth held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Hamilton. You have a beautiful home.”

  There, see? The spiky-haired home worker exhibits excellent social graces.

  Ryan shook her hand and greeted her with a warm smile, behaving as if the conversation we’d just had in the pantry closet had never occurred. How thankful I was, in that moment, that he, too, could exhibit excellent social graces.

  “Nice to meet you, as well,” he said. “You’ve been working in a seniors’ home, I’m told.”

  “Yes, I was mostly involved in organizing social activities and crafts. Every Wednesday night we had a jazz band come in, and I loved getting the residents up to dance.”

  “Are you a dancer?” Gram asked.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Not really. I took jive lessons once, years ago, which came in handy on jazz night. You’d be surprised at how some of the residents can move. I could barely keep up sometimes.”

  “That sounds like so much fun.” I turned to Ryan. “Didn’t I always say you and Mom should take ballroom d
ancing classes together?”

  “I wish we’d had the chance.”

  An awkward silence ensued, until Gram started backing up. Soon she was doing the two-step around the deck. “Lessons!” she shouted. “Who needs lessons? Some of us are naturals. Watch and learn, young ones.”

  Elizabeth laughed, hooted, and applauded.

  “Gram!” I called out to her, raising my thumb and pinky to my ear and mouth. “The phone is ringing. It’s Tom Bergeron from Dancing With the Stars!”

  Ryan watched Gram for a few seconds, then crossed toward her, held out his hand, and started singing “Only You.” She stepped into his arms and they waltzed together around the perimeter of the wide deck.

  “You’re beautiful,” Elizabeth said to them.

  I glanced at her in the sunshine while the breeze blew a part in her short black hair, and felt an immediate connection to her, which I couldn’t begin to explain.

  In that moment, it was obvious – at least to me – that we had chosen the right candidate, and I knew it wouldn’t take long for Ryan to realize it, too.

  Chapter Forty-four

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, while I was working at the yacht club, Elizabeth took Gram down to the beach where they hunted for seashells and unique rocks. When I returned at suppertime and walked through the front door, I breathed in the delectable aroma of creamy seafood chowder, warm bread in the oven, and boiled corn on the cob. I had to stop for a moment, close my eyes, and inhale as deeply as I could, for it was a heady fragrance. “Wow. That smells fantastic.”

  Elizabeth, who was stirring the pot of chowder at the stove, turned and smiled at me. “I was told you aren’t allergic to seafood.”

  “Heavens no. I’m a Maritimer. I have lobster in my blood.” I glanced to my left and saw Gram sitting on the sofa in the living room, leaning forward over something on the coffee table. “Whatcha doin’, Gram?”